Word: piping
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Little does he know the truth. All is not peace within this genial square. For the pipes of Pan--a tin pan--suddenly shock the literary browser with their metallic wails. And then, like locusts on a drowsy summer day, every steam pipe in that crewhile haven of peace pipes up to swell the radiator chorus, and the pandemonium of a boiler factory fills the sanctuary...
...clothes, were mewing for their mothers when McCoy was trading cuffs with the hardest hitter who ever put on a glove-thin rogues whom, in the days of his pride, he could have broken with a slap of his hand. They knocked him down with a piece of iron pipe, strove to take from his finger a $3,000 diamond ring. Unable to pull the thin gold circle from his bulking knuckle, they took whispered counsel, produced a pair of pliers, cut off the finger, escaped with the jewel...
...sable instrument that is pliant to their will as none that mortal hands have ever fingered; it speaks for them with a mighty organ voice; notes, at the command of their subconscious will, sing with the pomp of trumpets or the tenderness of fiddles, yet it is no pipe organ that they play, but a crisp, living, leaping engine of wire strings and felted hammers. Such a dream-piano may have been made incarnate by InventorJohn Hays Hammond Jr., "smart son of a smart father", (TIME, Aug. 17, AERONAUTICS). Last week he gave his name to a pedal...
Once there was a riding school in Salzburg, Austria. Max Reinhardt, whose castle-Leopoldskron-overlooks the crenelated streets of the old cathedral town, sent some weeks ago an army of mercenaries against the riding school with billhook, adz, hammer, saw. They tore out the stalls, put in a pipe organ. A choir loft went where the bins had been; the walls, which still preserved the smell of saddle-soap, disinfectant and horse-manure, were transformed into cathedral columns; the tanbark became an amphitheatre for the quality. There, last week, gathered a number of deposed princes, English lords and their ladies...
Last week the drilling had descended 3,500 ft., passing through strata of granite gneiss, a substance never known to have yielded oil in commercial quantities. A pipe-line had been constructed from the orifice to a neighboring cranberry bog to store the precious fluid when and if it gushed. But not a smitch of oil appeared...